As has been amply illustrated through its six-year history, Consider The Sauce is VERY partial to food with its origins in the Middle East or eastern Mediterranean.

But halal snack packs?

That’s something new, for me – I could even correctly be called a Johnny-come-lately.

It’s time to fix that.

In the course of asking a few people who I figure might know about such things, one name that came up was that of Flemington Kebab House – and I’m only too happy to return to this old favourite to break my HSP duck.

So … HSPs.

I love the idea. Most particularly, I love what a mate refers to as the “positivity” surrounding them and the noble concept of sticking it to Pauline Hanson and her ilk while eating top-notch, multicultural food.

But there’s things about HSPs that are definitely turn-offs.

The polystyrene trays?

Ugh.

The cheese?

Nope.

So while I know I really should, for the sake of journalism and realism, eat a straight-up, orthodox HSP, I am determined to do some customising.

For starters, I recoil with horror when the Flemington Kebab House staff member reaches for the polystyrene and my dinner is subsequently brought to me on one of metal platters on which all their other eat-in meals are served.

(In my half hour or so in the joint, I see quite a few Menulog orders departing …)

Hold the cheese.

Finally, Flemington Kebab House, being a significant step up from your basic kebab shack, I get to choose from three different kinds of meat – lamb, chicken or the composite/mince brew that is doner kebab.

I go for the regular shaved lamb – on chips, of course, and with the regular yogurt and chilli sauces – for $16.

It’s good.

And the chips retain at least some of their crispness right down to the very last one.

But I remain unconvinced.

It’s a simple truth that a plate of meat – with dips, salads and maybe rice on the side, and with a stack of fresh, warm Turkish attending – is, to my mind, a much superior meal.

On the day we visit, we’re told to “forget” the specials board (see below) – I would’ve certainly opted for the lamb roast.

Instead, we three converge on the bain marie and proceed to enjoy a mighty feast.

My plate stacks up thusly …

Very good Turkish rice with orzo.

Patlican kebab (eggplant kebab) – one of the best eggplant dishes it’s ever been my pleasure to devour, the slippery, delicious eggplant mixing it with lovely lamb cubes.

Mucver – fritters of spud, carrot and egg that are wonderfully chewy.

Sulu kofte – Marble-size balls of cracked wheat (quite like gnocchi) and chick peas in a rich soup based on a lamb stock.

The cracked wheat balls are more tender than they appear but along with the chick peas constitute a meal in themselves and would probably be better enjoyed as such.

The soup, however, is great.

The plates of Nat and Bennie are similar save for the addition of a vege-and-chicken dish with cheese sauce of Nadia’s own devising.

Platinum Cafe also boasts a range of dolmas, including stuffed capsicums, and sarma such as vine leaves.

We get a plate of the latter and enjoy them very much.

They’re served how we like ’em – cold.

They’re quite delicate and have a nice smoky flavour. Nat even reckons there may be meat of some sort involved though Nadia tells me that is not the case.

Also provided to our table is a very good salad of finely chopped vegetables, tomato, pickles (both cuke slices and cornichons), olives and fetta – such a shame it barely gets a look in as we explore the rest of our meals.

Our meal deals – including our plates, the stuffed vine leaves, the salad and cans of drink – costs us each an awesomely cheap $17.

Nadia tells me about the 90 per cent of the drivers who come in are of Turkish extraction – sounds very high to me! – but that there are also drivers from Greece, Italy and East Africa. From all over, really …

For all of them, I suspect, the Turkish homecooking served at Platinum Cafe is both welcome and somehow familiar, no matter from where they hail.

Nadia also warns us that when we return, the line-up of home-style dishes will almost certainly not be the same.

We wouldn’t have it any other way!

Platinum Cafe is open from 6am-8pm on week days and from 8am-5pm on Saturdays.

Mezmez, 42 Ferguson Street, Williamstown. Phone: 9397 8804

We sometimes have a laugh about how fickle the winds are that blow Consider The Sauce this way and that as it embarks on its adventures.

It’s our Saturday jaunt, we’re hungry and feeling virtuous after about an hour’s worth of house-cleaning in our low-maintenance home.

Heading towards Fehon Street, we are confronted with road signs ruling out a right-hand turn and destinations such as Seddon, Footscray and beyond.

So a left turn it is … and Williamstown, with no specific destination in mind.

We park and check out a cool pizza place that is on our “to do” list, but they’re not rolling yet despite it being 12.30pm.

Maybe next time for them.

So we are happy to return to Mezmez, which we wrote about just a few weeks back – it’s a beaut and significant addition to the Williamstown food scene, and we’re eager to try some more of their dishes and write about them.

Bennie has been given the run of menu, including the more substantial and expensive meals, but goes for the pide with BBQ zatar chicken, peppers, spinach and chipotle mayo ($14).

Mezmez, 42 Ferguson Street, Williamstown. Phone: 9397 8804

When it was known as Plumm’s, 42 Ferguson Street was a quasi-regular for us – for breakfasts, lunches and even, IIRC, the odd dinner.

I think that between Plumm’s and Mezmez, there was another inhabitant of the address but I can’t recall its name.

Certainly, there has been a long period on non-use for the address before the recent opening of Mezmez.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing, with a view to dispelling “failed restaurant karma”.

Not that we’re suspicious or anything!

In terms of a fresh start, it’s also a fine thing the Mezmez crew has overhauled the room so that it bears little or no resemblance to what went before.

There’s lots of wall tiles, lots of wood and a variety of different seating and eating configurations.

When we visit for Saturday lunch, the place is buzzing, there are happy people in abundance and staff are on the ball.

Mezmez is a sister restaurant of Pint Of Milk in Newport, so as you’d expect has many of the same cafe strengths going on.

But the new place looks and feels very different.

More to the point, outside some orthodox breakfast items, the Mezmez menu (see below) – especially the brunch and lunch lists – evinces a strong Turkish and Mediterranean feel.

And that’s mostly why we’re here and excited about it.

We’re allocated a small wall-mounted table with tall stools towards the back of the room – and we’re happy about that.

Because we’re sitting right at the very spot where food leaves the kitchen and heads for the customers’ pleasure – so we get a good look, while we’re waiting for our meals, at what other folks have been ordering.

That ranges from breakfasts of the basic, toasted kind and the more ornate and decadent through to an “ancient grains” salad, panfried saganaki, crispy fried squid and preposterously fat lamb koftas.

Consider The Sauce would like to believe our dismay and disgust at the recent weeks’ deliberately inflamed anti-Muslim hysteria is universal across the land.

Sadly, though, having read much in the press of all kinds, on social media and various websites – luckily I am pretty much completely out of the loop when it comes to talkback radio – I know that is simply not the case.

But while these events have been unfolding, a thought bubbled up: “Why have I never been to a mosque?”

Predictably and joyfully, our visit is a whole lot of fun, full of friendly people with big smiles.

And, of course, we have our fill of the food on hand.

The cheese-and-spinach gozleme I enjoy is as good as it gets – hot of the hot plate, fresh and wonderful.

But the coolest event of the day has an unexpectedly personal note …

We have been on the mosque grounds just a matter of minutes when I run into my Star Weekly colleague Yasemin.

I’m surprised to see her, and she I.

But we shouldn’t be … after all, I did know she’s a local; and she, in turn, knows of my foodie/multicultural adventurer persona.

Yasemin is very busy selling tickets for the kebab operation but we nevertheless squeeze in some conversation.

For me, this is the western suburbs one-degree of separation at splendid work and a valued opportunity to see a colleague with whom I have in the past year finessed numerous stories as something other than a reporter to my sub-editor.

And for Yasemin, I hope (!), it’s a chance to see me as something other than a cranky, demanding, nitpicking pedant – perhaps as an openminded foodie blogger with untold curiosity and as a father.

That latter description being, you’ll be unsurprised to learn, very much how I see and define myself these days.

This is Yasemin’s mosque.

I ask her if she pretty much grew up here.

Her answer is: “Yes!”

After my savory appetite has been satisfied, I enjoy a super strong and sweet Turkish coffee with a deep-fried dessert called sam isi.

It’s filo pastry encasing semolina, and like so many treasured desserts from that part of the world, is sweet without being overly so.